


Like Eating Glass

by justaconsequence (notverypunkofme)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alexandria - Freeform, Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Alternate Canon, Angst, Apocalypse, Beth Lives, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Grady, Post-Terminus, Romance, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notverypunkofme/pseuds/justaconsequence
Summary: In the nights she dreams about white enamel bathtubs filled with blood, and misty forests echoing with walkers´ moans. She dreams of Garnier UltraDoux peach shampoo and waking up next to Daryl Dixon. No amount of praying will stop it.Beth and Daryl make it to Alexandria. Separately.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 23
Kudos: 98





	1. The way you say my name

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper TWD fic. I would like to dedicate it to @lindentree whose work touched my heart and soul. With the biggest thanks to Dacia who helped me with the process <3

It's been a week since the others have gotten in, and she still yet has to speak to Daryl. Or make Daryl talk to her, to look at her. She knows that Rick is undecided whether it's wise to stay in a place like Alexandria- too perfect to be a part of the grim reality that the world has found itself in, too easy; and that everyone is carefully tiptoeing around her.

Beth can imagine that the overall spirits would be even lower if they hadn't found this shelter. She could not manage to describe the joy at seeing her sister again, Carl, Michonne, cuddling little Judith who's grown up so much since the prison time. The shock of thinking that she wouldn't see her family ever again and actually meeting them alive in the quiet Alexandria street was indescribable. Even though they´ve lost so many.

But Daryl was still there, part of the group that had travelled from Terminus to Alexandria, the survivors, and yet Beth´s been feeling like maybe he's not here at all. Like with herself, she knows that a part of her stayed in Grady, that she's not the person they had known.

Changing her behaviour, locking herself in - that's partly what´s helping her to cope with Daryl´s demeanour. Part of why he's been avoiding her perhaps. Because she herself has been struggling to interact, unsure of how to carry on normally. How to ask them what befell them while they had been separated, to share what happened in the hospital, and what had happened before, in the endless woods with Daryl.  
She knows that it must have been like this for Daryl from the very beginning. On the other side, she's absolutely determined not to let go of what happened between the two of them, of the closeness and connection that had been so apparent while on the run. She would never give that up.  
She could not blame Daryl for being distant, that would make her a hypocrite. But the fact he doesn't spare a single glance in her direction still hurts.

From the moment Beth was found by Aaron on a dirty, dusty forest road with dried mud behind her nails and walkers´ gunk all over her shirt, she's been thinking about the situation- her successful escape from Dawn- as a restart, a new beginning of sorts. She had no idea where she was, no idea if Daryl or Maggie or anyone from her group was still alive, no idea if Aaron was lying- a story about a fully equipped, safe community was just ungraspable for Beth at that time. But he was right. And Beth didn't have any other option than join them. She slept for a full day and a half in a queen sized bed that she thought didn't exist anymore. She ate food she thought that she would never taste again. With all the care and attention of Deanna, Denise and Aaron she couldn't make herself to feel more than a ghost of what she had been.

Beth shakes her head resolutely. She's being selfish, she knows. Having Maggie back should be enough. Holding Judith should be enough too.

She smiles down at the sleeping baby. Looking after Judith has brought back some comfort and atmosphere from when they lived in the prison. The strangest place of all to find peace.Not for long, Beth muses, sadness washing over her. She doesn't want to go back to memories of the Governor and that day he came to destroy their temporary home. That was lost in the flames, along with countless memories and people and things. While in the hospital, she had enough time to make her peace with most of that.

It's sunny, mid autumn- if she would have to guess. There's a real calendar on Deanna´s desk that's accurate but Beth doesn't want to know. Doesn't need to know. Dates and months are part of the old world, they don't belong to “now”.

She's wearing a pair of new jeans and purple Old Navy t-shirt with a small writing in italics that says The Real Deal. It feels stupid. She wouldn't choose to wear this Before and the saying is even more stupid now. Who cares about quotes on t-shirts. The wardrobe in her room is packed with stuff like this. Baby blue summer dresses and straw hats and fake leather leggings, all equally impractical. Changing her tattered cowboy boots for a pair of Adidas sneakers felt good though. Contrary to two months ago- she doesn't think of the people who had brought such collections in, to begin with.

The porch is sunlit and Beth tilts her head towards the warmth. How lovely to be able to enjoy something as simple as warm weather without being busy with fearing for your life. She looks down at her arms. They are pale, despite the amount of time she´s spent outdoors since she ran away from Dawn´s freak house. Her face is pasty colored. There's a mirror hanging above the sink in her bathroom which she tries to ignore most of the time but she did catch a glimpse of her hollowed cheeks a bunch of times. She firmly believes that this Alexandria treatment is going to mend her soon. There's so much more than protruding hip bones and stitches on her forehead. It's the soul that needs healing the most. Beth wants to believe in getting better in that way too.

Judith´s got her own stroller now. Nothing classy, just a dark blue thing that had been laying around in one of the garages, waiting for the first baby to arrive in the safe zone. There's a crib now in the room where she sleeps, enough food to properly wean her. She's going to be the happiest baby in the world. It's a task that Beth´s taken upon herself as soon as she spotted her in the group of her friends on the day of their arrival.

* * *

At the beginning Daryl's not around much, or not at all. She catches only glimpses of him, usually walking by Rick or Carol´s side, discussing something vigorously. He must have strong opinions then, if he's willing to be so vocal.

She tries to go and talk to him, at first. To ask what happened to him after she had been taken to Grady. Ask him what had happened to them, before the Grady policemen took her.

At the first breakfast after they arrive, there's a free space next to Daryl and she walks over, full of anticipation, but as soon Daryl spots her, he abruptly gets up and leaves the room. Beth stands there like an idiot, holding a plate with oatmeal. She catches how Carol and Michonne look at each other.

There are other times after, when Daryl looks unashamedly through her when their paths cross outside, openly ignoring her at meetings. Little by little it makes Beth draw back completely.

A few days later, she pushes the stroller through the streets to a house where Carol´s staying now. The roads are lined by young locust trees. On her way she waves at Olivia who's standing in front of the inventory and smiles at the kids sitting on the lawn, learning equations. Ugh, she hated math! The only thing you need it for nowadays is to count your chances for actually making it alive.

The distances are teeny here, like walking from one end of a grocery shop to the other. Like from physics class to women's restrooms in Beth´s old school. Shit. She never got a chance to graduate. She scoffs at that thought, shaking her head. Like that matters now.

Carol´s house is as cosy, clean and tidy as all the other ones. After what they´ve been through this type of accommodation feels unnatural. Beth´s happy to get used to it, and doesn't complain.

She leaves the stroller on the porch, scooping sleeping Judith up into her arms to cradle her against her chest. The poor baby hasn't been able to develop any kind of routine and she naps on and off as she pleases. Beth´s been trying to change this by establishing sleep time, playtime and food time. Judith should start adjusting soon.

“Hi,” she greets Carol with a half smile and sits down on the tall bar chair that's on the other side of the kitchen island than Carol´s currently cooking on a tall bar stool at the island, opposite of Carol.

“Hello, honey,” Carol smiles back at her, wiping her hand on a linen apron around her waist. Somehow Beth´s come to like visiting Carol during the day and the two of them, usually with Judith present too, would just talk about nonsense or sit in comfortable silence. It's probably the smell of cooking that draws Beth here, reminding her of home and her mama preparing meals for the whole family. The familiar sound of sizzling and pots clanking.

“Have you talked to Daryl yet?”

Beth´s heart jumps at the mention of his name, and she flushes instantly. Luckily Carol´s busy with mixing the dough.

She shakes her head. “No,” she says, playing with the hem of Judith´s blanket.

Carol hmms to herself and turns around, holding a big bowl. “He was devastated.”

Yeah sure, is the first thing that comes to Beth´s mind, and she wants to say it out loud, as sarcastically as possible. But she's not like that anymore. A moany teenager. Her feelings are HER feelings. It's her job to get her mind around them and to get over them. Doesn't have to be a baby about Daryl not wanting to have anything to do with her after he´d kept her alive. Job done. She can do it now herself, thank you.

“When you went missing,” Carol adds, stirring the mixture in the bowl with a wooden spoon.

“I went missing and now I'm back. So,” Beth says, rocking Judith as the baby stirs in her sleep. She really wishes Carol would let the issue go.

“I'm sure there are things he would like to talk about.”

“That's just his problem, isn't it? That he doesn't talk. No one can force him, Carol, certainly not me. I don't want to be a bother. I think there had been enough of that when we escaped the prison.”

“Oh darling,” Carol sighs and puts down the utensils. “Is that what you think?” She comes around the kitchen island to put an arm around Beth´s shoulders.

Beth holds stiffly. She wishes she could welcome Carol´s comfort. Instead she focuses on not starting to cry, as she can feel her throat closing tight, eyes stinging.

“It is what it is,” she lifts her chin, head held high. “Let's just stop dwelling on the past, shall we? What happened happened. You don't wanna to dwell on the past either, do you?” Beth looks up, eyes boring into Carol´s. She dares her to drop the topic. They all have their reasons.

After a moment of silence Carol squeezes Beth´s shoulder wordlessly, and Beth lets go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.

“I didn't know you like baking,” Beth points out, just to have something else to talk about and to avoid an awkward silence.

“Oh god, I don´t ,” Carold exclaimes which has Beth laughing. “It's just for the sake of blending in. You know, Rick is still trying to figure out this place and if it's okay to stay and trust these people.”

“I think I trust them. They seem pretty transparent.” Beth´s mind flashes to when she arrived in Alexandria two weeks ago. “They´ve been good to me,” she says, suppressing a bodily shudder. “When I thought there was only me left.”

* * *

It's funny how fast can life change. You don't even notice and you find yourself in situations you could never even imagine, becoming a whole new person, surrounded by people who you wouldn't even acknowledge before. And how easy it's to get used to them when they simply happen without much fuss.

Now Beth lives with Olivia, Denise and Tara. She´s got her own room with en suite bathroom. In the mornings she goes to pick Judith up at Rick´s and helps in the morning school with the smaller children. In the afternoon she goes to infirmary and learns from Denise. After all, she's Hershel's daughter, and in her mind she believes that her daddy would be proud if he saw her learning how to help people. Maggie says so too, with a hopeful smile. In these times, she knows she might save a few lives here and there. Sasha takes her out hunting from time to time, and Beth welcomes the freedom that the forest offers. None of them is used to living behind walls anymore, and they seek the wilderness to calm their souls. Against Rick´s rules, she sneaks out more often than not but only for a few hours at a time, trying to talk herself into believing it's not to meet Daryl out there. She never spots him anyway.

If someone is restless and caged, it's him. Beth knows he can't stand Alexandria. She suspects for many many years he hadn't had a real, stable home - roaming the country from West to East to North to South with Merle, camping by big lakes and crashing in abandoned houses. Beth also understands that's one of the reasons why Daryl´s Daryl. She wishes things were not so complicated. She wishes - she wishes lotsa things.

Under the mattress of her bed, she keeps her diary. It's such a foolish thing to do, like there are any real secrets scribbled on the yellow pages. Putting her thoughts down in a blue ink, that's always helped her to organise them, she found the process therapeutic. During elementary and even high school, she would write song lyrics, her head full of dreams about making it as a recognised singer.

* * *

Beth notices Father Gabriel trailing behind her uncertainly. Or maybe it's a concern. To her, he looks concerned all the time. This lasts some time, and Beth wonders if it was Deanna´s idea. Either way, he's got the wrong person. Beth was not there when Gabriel joined the group but she's heard enough. The little voice inside her tells her not to trust him. She doesn't trust easily anymore, and this is no exception, whatever relationship with God he does have. Her daddy might frown at her for thinking like this, but he's not around either.

It's Michonne who asks Beth about him.

“He thinks it would be nice to have you sing in the church,” Michonne tells her one morning when they are sitting on the infirmary steps. It's so unlike Michonne that she´s lost words for a few seconds, eyebrows shooting up.

“Just for people to hear music,” Michonne explains. “There's the guitar and who knows - maybe one day we will find a piano!”

Beth understands that Michonne´s trying to cheer her up, to live up to her new job and not disappoint Deanna and herself. She imagines it must have been weird for her friends to see how she's changed. But people change. She has a right to change too. Who you are and who you need to be to survive are two very different things. Changes make you change.

“Yeah, he told me so. I'm not in the mood to start putting together a choir.”

Michonne laughs. “It doesn't have to be a choir.”

If Rick's right about something, it's how naive the local people are. Their Friday dance parties leave Beth absolutely cold. Deanna, who´s familiar with Beth´s passion for singing and instruments playing, has been persuading Beth to come along to “have fun” since the very beginning. Beth has declined every single time, politely. Michonne must be on a similar mission.

“I'm not that into singing anymore,” Beth says resolutely, probably with more force than necessary. “Not that into churches either, actually. If you know what I mean.”

In the nights she dreams about white enamel bathtubs filled with blood, and misty forests echoing with walkers´ moans. She dreams of Garnier UltraDoux peach shampoo and waking up next to Daryl Dixon. No amount of praying will stop it.

* * *

The evenings are calm and kind. The dark doesn't necessarily mean danger and lack of sleep anymore. It's almost hard to get used to it but Beth enjoys sleeping more than three hours a night, sore from sleeping rough or shivering with fear and cold.

With Glenn away scavenging, Beth sleeps at Maggie´s. They share a bed, like when they were younger. There's a quilted throw covering the bed - kinda similar to those Beth´s mom would sew in the winters for the whole family. Little Beth loved choosing the right combinations of colours and patterns that would come to a life together and decorate someone's bedroom.

If Beth focuses really hard, she can pretend they are in her childhood bedroom. With the throw, the soft carpet she´s sitting on. Maggie´s brushing her hair. It's shorter now. Jess offered to cut it when Beth got in, the long tresses tangled together, matted.

Beth knows that Maggie wants to say something that Beth might not like even before her sister has a chance to speak out. Maggie fidgets behind her back, takes a breath as if to start talking and then hesitates.

“What happened when you were with Daryl?” she asks finally. It's a hesitant, careful question. From the tone it's apparent that she's not asking how many walkers did they kill.

“What?” Beth plays dumb. She´s propping her chin against her bent knee claid in yellow pajama bottoms.

Maggie strokes Beth´s hair to the side, starts combing through the strands again. “You know- did you two -”

Beth turns fully to face her sister. “What?! No!” she dismisses whatever idea might be in Maggie´s head. She tries to look horrified, scandalised, disgusted. Truth is that she doesn't know herself what happened between Daryl and herself. It was not nothing but she´s sure that what Maggie´s talking about here is sex.

“Sorry!” Maggie hurries to reply.

“It was nothing like that at all!” Oh Beth is mortified. She hopes that Maggie hasn't been thinking about this for a long time. It makes Beth so embarrassed. Before the turn they would talk about boys from time to time but Beth´s interest in them was always rather tepid anyway, she much preferred music and going to movies with her friends. She was never crazy for anyone, not Jimmy, nor Zach.  
“I'm sorry,” Maggie repeats, grabbing Beth´s hand, sounding sincere. “I just - with everything - you refused to go to Deanna´s party. It seemed obvious to me that it was because you wanted to avoid a certain someone.” Maggie´s voice is gentle now and Beth leans closer to her, hoping that Maggie would start brushing her hair again.

Why don't you go to ask him why he's been avoiding me, Beth wants to say. There's no point though, like earlier with Carol. However, it astonishes her that the women choose to talk to Beth about it, as if she's the one who had done something wrong, who had chosen to cut him off.

“I don't feel like being around tons of people. Mainly those I don't know,” she confesses with a sigh. It's true as well so technically she isn't lying.

Maggie picks up the brush again. “I understand,” she starts running it through Beth's hair again. “But remember that we are here with you now. That I'm here. We are family.”

* * *

After Beth puts Judith to bed for her after lunch nap, and helps Denise with checking meds in the infirmary she heads to the gate. There's no one guarding the entrance so it's not exactly hard to push the heavy door open and slide them closed behind her. She hopes that with Rick here the safety rules would change soon, for the sake of the oblivious Alexandrians. They can get killed if that's what they wish but Beth isn't taking things lightly, same goes for the rest of her group. They fought for their lives outside and they will carry on inside of those walls too, if it comes to it.

She knows that Rick goes out here with Daryl, sometimes with Carol too. The Alexandria residents might be wondering what is there for people to be drawn to the woods - some of them probably think that Beth and her friends turned crazy from the many weeks they had spent without a shelter or with a poor one, eating squirrels and snakes. For Beth, going out is like taking a deep breath after being underwater. She's glad for a roof above head and taps with running water. But she needs to feel the leafy forest floor beneath her feet too. It's like a basic need now.

The walk is short before she reaches the sunny clearing where blackberry bushes grow. The fruits are ripe now and Beth starts picking them cheerfully, the warm berries squishy between her fingers. She noticed them last week when exploring Alexandria surroundings, before Maggie and the rest came. Back then they were not completely black yet, and she made an internal note to return, to pick them and maybe bake a cake or add them to a smoothie. She can give them to Judith to taste now, the toddler loves all sorts of berries, if Beth remembers correctly. Some things just seem such a long time ago.

The afternoon sun beats down on Beth's nape as she makes her way through the shrubs, mindful of the thorny branches surrounding her. A mockingbird rocketts off from it's cover just above her head, disturbed from his nest, probably, and Beth startles at it's sudden cry.

The next moment she registers another sound, a rustle, and with an automatic thought - walker - she turns to her right sharply, only to come face to face with a point of a crossbow.

Beth lets out a muted shriek, taking an abrupt step backwards which has her tumbling down right to her ass on the uneven ground.

She lands with an oomph, only to get up again, more clumsily than she would wish with Daryl here. She sees him reach for her, on an instinct.

Beth flinches to avoid the possible touch. “I'm fine,” she brushes him off, finding a steady ground under her feet again.

“This ain´t no Sweet Valley, darlin´. You oughta stay in.” He barely looks at her.

Beth braces herself. No one is going to call her darling in this disgusting, mocking tone. She takes a breath to tell him what is on her mind but Daryl doesn't let her.

“There's a safe place for once so would ya just get in there and stay?!”

“Well why aren't you there?” Beth fires back, holding her ground.

Daryl lets go of his crossbow. He's stopped pointing it at her the second she fell. It's resting against his leg now.

“Ya wanted a safe place to live. You got one now. So don't be so stupid and stay there.” His voice is hoarse and uncompromising. “People like me are out, so people like you can stay in.”

Daryl´s words take her by surprise. She remembers sharing with him her hopes for finding a sanctuary to settle down one day.

“I'm sorry but you are not in charge of me,” Beth says mockingly, gritting her teeth. She wants to SCREAM.

Daryl doesn't say anything, which is absolutely unsurprising for Beth. It only angers her further, hot blood pulsing in her temples.

“I can see right through you. You´ve been avoiding me, not wanting to have anything to do with me, because you are scared. You are scared to care for someone and then lose them. You are scared that I'll disappear again, this time forever.”

Daryl stares at her, speechless.

“Wanna know how I know?” Beth asks, challenging him. “I know because that's how I feel. But instead of being a coward I've chosen to spend as much time as possible with the people I love, because any minute can be the last one.” Her voice wavers dangerously at the end but she doesn't let it affect her. “I want them to know how much they mean to me. There's no time for hiding our feelings. It's the fucking apocalypse!”

His hand shoots up quicker than Beth is able to register, and he's holding her wrist in deadly grip.

“'m takin´ ya back,” he mutters, already moving in the direction of Alexandria.

Beth doesn't let anyone drag her into all directions again. She yanks HARD and frees her hand. Daryl turns back to face her, and there's something crazy in his eyes as he stares at her, tries to grab her again and reaches to shake her.

“No!” Beth shouts, fighting to escape his reach, pushing him away. She's not sure where it's coming from. This rage, this pent up energy. Her mind completely shuts off as she moves frantically, dodging him. She's unsure why this is such a deal for her, why she doesn't just let go, just walks back to the community with him. She shoves against his chest and realises that she´s dropped the timber cup with blackberries, crouches down in search of them.

“They were for Judith,” Beth explains, a bit sharp, when she gets her laboured breathing under control, fingers brushing through the long grass, picking up the berries and putting them back in the cup. She's mad but this gives her something else to focus on. Daryl's standing next to her. He must be thrown off guard too because he's shifting his weight from one leg to another, like he does when he's nervous. Beth has noticed many times.

“I I wanted to bring them to her,” she babbles, picking up the blackberries with nimble fingers. “We´re not far from the walls and I'm being careful.” The knowledge that Daryl's angry makes her nervous. She's mad too though, letting the emotion show in her voice.

“And anyway,” she stands up, back straightening, “why don't you go back to ignoring me? That worked pretty well.” She's looking Daryl right in the eye, unflinching and cold. They are only inches apart now, the closest since their hug days ago. Long weeks filled with emptiness and the smell of disinfection before that. She´s gonna hate hospitals until her last day.

Daryl bites on his lip, otherwise remains silent. The air between them grows heavy.

“I can look after myself now, no need for you to drag my dead weight behind,” she finishes the last few words directed to her toes. She swerves around Daryl´s rigid form and heads back to Alexandria. There's no sound from behind her, no reaction. She clenches her jaw and makes herself to stay on the track.

* * *  
After, Beth is furious, as she walks back to the gate. She's burning with shame at how Daryl made her feel, and intensely proud for how she stood up for herself. That's a new thing. She likes it. She decides to swallow it all down and spends her afternoon with Judith, her favourite companion. Perhaps because the little girl doesn't ask any questions.

Only in the most desperate of times did she allow herself to think of Daryl and her in another universe. What if she had met him in a safe world. On their farm or in Atlanta. Would she even want to come close to a man like him? In the long, badly lit halls of Grady, she imagined she would. Country music concerts, motorbike rides, trips to the ocean. Friendship, companionship, keeping each other safe. Making each other feel precious and safe and loved without words. That's what she pictured. Accidental touches turning into causal hand holding, the smell of rain on his skin that Beth shouldn't be able to smell, way too close to him. Something charged hanging between them, carefully unspoken but there. A reckless wonder, a what if. She imagined he would be so nice to come home to. In the dark nights spent alone, shivering, hiding in hollow trees, this is what she thought of.

* * *  
At the end, it only takes one more day before she sees him again.

She takes an evening shift in the infirmary, swapping with Denise who's been very secretive lately. Alongside Tara. Like they´ve been plotting something.

It's been quiet. Only little Sam came in with a splinter in his palm which Beth easily took out with tweezers, then changed the bed sheets and boiled them along with the towels and bandages. She tries not to think of Grady. That hospital is often a place of horror in her nightmares. Instead she thinks of her dad. How she felt grossed out from the sight of animal blood, or just seeing dogs unconscious, knocked out with the anaesthetics. Maggie was perfect though. She enjoyed helping dad out, assisting with calf deliveries and stitching dogs who had gotten into fights.

The door creaks and Beth startles, gasping. She's been awful jumpy. It had been raining the day before and in the morning too, and Beth catches a whiff of the damp air.

She expects Mrs Bowland to ask for sleeping pills, not Daryl- wet like a stray dog, and equally muddy- to pop in. Falls in, more like.

As soon as Daryl spots her, he freezes. There's a moment of silence, Beth not so sure she wants to be in the same room with him after what happened yesterday; how rough he had been with her, nasty.

It's Daryl who breaks the uncomfortable silence. “Uh, Tobin said that Denise would be here,” he says, making a point of not meeting Beth´s eyes. He's leaning heavily on the wall, and Beth notices a bloody stain on his side. When her eyes flick there, Daryl actually turns to limp out of the door.

“No, wait!” Beth calls, alarmed. What the hell? Would he really rather bleed out than face her?

He grimaces and sets down the crossbow. “Don't wanna bother ya.”

“Nonsense,” Beth rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. “Have a seat, please,” she jerks her head towards one of the chairs and walks over to the cabinet to fish out the surgical gloves. In her head, she decides to keep things strictly professional. Doesn't matter how annoyed she might be, how her feeling´s are bubbling under the surface.

The chair creaks behind her, that's how so she knows that Daryl's sitting down. With a little internal cheer up, she passes the few feets separating the space between them.

Daryl appears downright miserable. His shoulders are hunched with exhaustion and discomfort. Beth can barely see his face through the thick curtain of hair matted with blood but she can read his body language as well as ever. There are holes on the knees of his trousers, revealing fresh bruises. Her stomach clenches when she tries to imagine what must have happened. What could have happened to him.

She quickly wipes her nose with the cuff of her shirt, takes a steadying breath.

“We need to take your top off.” It comes out choked and hollow, like when she had tonsillitis two years back and she had to take two courses of antibiotics.  
The idea of Daryl not being able to even undress is physically hurting her. He manages to shrugg of the leather vest which falls to the ground, and begins to unbutton his blue shirt. The blood stain is perfectly visible now and Beth winces at the sight of it.

“ ´m fine,” Daryl remarks immediately, as if sensing what she's thinking, undoing the buttons and breathing heavily. It's obvious that it's hurting him when he moves his arm too much.

All of Beth´s rage disappears and she noisily plumps down on the chair opposite of Daryl. “Let me,” she reaches for the buttons. The first time Daryl flinches away but Beth is persistent, she sets to work on getting rid of the garment, not waiting for his damn permission. Her fingers are shaking as they remove the fabric, and if Daryl notices he doesn't say anything, remains looking down between his knees, head bowed.

Removing the shirt of Daryl's shoulders and arms teaches Beth another lesson in self-control, as she bravely remains stoic face to face with dozens of healed as well as fresh scars and battered skin. She swallows thickly, letting her eyes examine every inch of the uncovered skin, as she looks for the injuries.

“I don't know if I´ll be able to stitch the wound,” Beth says, expecting the long gash running from Daryl's lower side up to the ribs on his back, a good five or more inches. “Looks like it's not bleeding anymore.” The skin is looking tender and red with irritation. “I'm just gonna disinfect it,” Beth decides. If it's gonna act up overnight, Denise can check it properly in the morning. She should in either case.

“Denise will have a proper look in the morning,” Beth days, ignoring the fact that Daryl´s set to leave with Aaron tomorrow.

Daryl grunts an acknowledgement, staring at the wall behind Beth´s shoulder now. She tries not to be affected by his silence. Even in a moment like this, he won't talk to her. It hurts more than it should.

Beth picks cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She pours some of the light blue liquid on the ball and then runs it over Dary´s wound hesitantly. She knows how much the antiseptic burns from her own experience. On a gash like this- must burn like hell. The way Daryl tenses only confirms it. His arms are shaking too, from the effort of holding still, she assumes. They are smeared with a combination of sweat, dirt and walker´s gunk. The smell could put Beth off, she should wrinkle her nose. Instead it instantly reminds her of their time on the run- hiding in the woods, sleeping rough, burning houses.

She's so close to him and terribly aware of it too. Daryl doesn't make a habit of taking his top off and walking around half-naked. Besides the scars, Beth believes that Daryl´s just not the type to do that, uncomfortable without his clothes that serve as a barrier, a protection.

Well, too bad, she thinks, because there's nothing now. Just an expanse of skin, cleaner where it had been covered, and dirty where it hadn't. Beth´s cheeks heat up, ears as well, as she lets herself look, takes her fill, without him knowing. It's making her a bit sick- to ogle him like this, without his consent- it also makes her want to run her hands over the width of his shoulders and down his vulnerable sides.

The used cotton balls go into the trash can. She clears her throat, standing right before him, hands on her hips.

“Now your face,” she tries to sound direct, not leaving a space for stupid arguments that he might have.

Miraculously, Daryl pushes his hair out of his eyes, wincing as some of it comes unstuck from the bloody scratches. She notices his nails- bitten and dirty with dried blood at the cuticles. It moves something in her. He shouldn't be out there all the time, while everyone else is safe behind the tall, metal walls. He shouldn't be risking his life for a bunch of people who throw parties on Friday evenings like the world didn't stop a long time ago. She realises how selfish she had been yesterday, shouting at him, while he only wanted her to use the protection he's been working on so tirelessly.

Her throat contracts and she quickly turns around to pull her shit together. She knocks over a few bottles while getting the steristrips. Clumsy, stupid, she cringes.

When Beth turns around Daryl´s looking at her. She steps closer to him, willing herself to relax, to slow down her breathing. If she wants her hands to work properly, she has to get her breath under control.

“I´ve gotta clean those too,” she says, pointing vaguely at Daryl's face, sitting back down.

They are only a foot apart like this, knees almost touching. She can feel the heat coming off Daryl´s body. He's always ran a bit hot. Beth recalls how unnatural it seemed when they would camp in the woods last winter, although camping is not the right word. He would be the first one to offer his blanket to Lori or Carl. Later on, after the prison fell, Beth liked to silently curl next to him on the forest bed, when they were too scared to start up a campfire, Daryl being her only source of warmth. She never slept better than by his side, as lame as it is.

Reaching to his face is like touching his heart with bare hands. That's how intimate and almost wrong it feels. Their faces are so close like this. It would take only one little bit and Beth´s lips could brush his tanned face… Beth tries to be as clinical about it as possible, grateful for the surgical gloves. She cleans a cut after a cut, willing her loud mind to be quiet for one moment in her life. Daryl keeps watching her face, their eyes meeting from time to time. Everytime the pain makes him twitch, Beth murmurs a quiet apology, wordlessly wincing too.

When it's time to put on the steristripes, Daryl shakes his head.

“Those things ain´t gonna improve my face. Leave it for someone who´ll really need it.”

Beth´s about to protest, then bites her tongue. It's not her place to tell him what to do. She stands up again, taking off the blue gloves. They leave behind the awful rubbery, hospital smell. Beth almost gags.

“I hope you don't have internal bleeding, or something I'm not able to spot,” she says instead, watching Daryl straighten up and bend sideways, trying to examine his injury. “I think you should also take antibiotics. In case there's an infection. We have enough of them now.”

Daryl snaps.

“Why? Why are you so damn nice to me when I'm such a bastard?”

Beth blinks rapidly, taken aback. Quickly, she tries to think of a suitable response.

“You're hurt,” she settles on. It's a simple fact. “I'm not gonna leave ya hurting only because you called me stupid.”

Daryl hangs his head. “´Twas not what I wanted to say. I was a real dick.”

“What did you want to say?” What changed your mind? She's standing in the middle of the room, feeling so so small.

He looks at her for real now, waiting on her to look back, holding her gaze steadily. “That ya couldn't really think I would ever leave you in danger again.”

Beth bites in her lip, hard, afraid to move.

“That it's a damn miracle you're back.”

And he looks at her like that too, like she's a miracle, some kind of an apparition, cloaked in mist. No one´s looked at her like this. She's not sure what to make of it, swallowing and turning her face to the side to escape his heavy gaze.

This is the moment she's been waiting for, she realises, taking a step back to him.

“Maybe it's a miracle,” Beth says. “But I'm no ghost. So stop acting like you are dealing with one.” He's staring at her, eyes glassy, biting his lower lip. It's trembling. Beth takes his hand and brings it to her chest, to her wild heart.

“I'm not a ghost. I'm here now,” she insists.

Daryl nods and Beth sighs, shoulders dropping, tension seeping out of her, like being freed of a hundred years old curse. He understands.

Cautiously, Daryl moves, arms winding gently around her waist, face burying into her abdomen, and she can feel his beard prickling her skin like little needles through the thin fabric of her top. She hugs him around his neck, pulling him close in the cradle of her arms.

“Wanted to say that you are - young, important, have your family here. You have to stay safe,” Daryl´s voice is muffled, broken sounding.

She blinks back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. It takes everything in her to not to start crying. This is what she wanted from the moment she woke up in the white Grady hospital room. Just to have him near her, to be close to him.

She can feel every hot exhale against her stomach, where his face is pressed to her.

“I never told Deanna everything,” Beth says in a small voice, watching a moth collide with the light bulb again and again, making a soft, rustling noise that sounds too loud in the room. “I didn't tell her I know how to shoot.”

“Good girl. That was smart of ya,” Daryl rasps out, like he's proud of her for being stealthy and cautious - just like he had taught her. It makes Beth smile; a warm feeling flooding the pit of her stomach. She hoped he would be pleased.

Afterwards Beth helps him with his shirt, holding it up. She had checked on the wound again, made sure it's really not bleeding. He slides his arms in without much problem but he's cautious, she can tell. Beth lets her fingers linger on his arms lightly. Once it's on, Beth begins to button it up, mindlessly deciding so, one little button in time. The holes are tiny too, it's taking forever. Or maybe Beth´s just savoring being close to Daryl.

She can feel her breathing slowing down but sounding laboured as the back of her fingers come in contact with Daryl´s chest and stomach. Opposite her Daryl´s looking at her hands, she can see him watching from the corner of her eye, and it's only adding to the heady atmosphere surrounding them now.

Putting the stray hair strands behind her ears swiftly, a motion of habit, she wills herself to get a grip. It was only in the funeral home when she realized that Daryl affects her in undescribable ways. Not only a hero worship. Convinced herself not to die of embarrassment at the idea of her feelings for him.

She proceeds to the cuffs, Daryl obediently offering his hand to her, wrist up. His skin is shockingly hot there and Beth imagines she can feel the pulse under her fingertips. She struggles with the second button for it's stiffness, not wanting to touch Daryl too much in case it becomes obvious.

“Thanks,” Daryl says softly, and she almost scoffs, pretty sure that doing Daryl´s buttons up annoyed him, more than anything. But he takes her hand in his, gripping the wrist lightly before pressing a single, dry kiss there. Blood rushes into Beth´s face immediately, making her all light headed, like when she had the awful moonshine. It takes her a second to lean the last inch forward and brush her lips against Daryl´s stubbly cheek, lingering a moment longer than necessary. She can feel the corner of his mouth against hers. Beth´s eyes flutter for that single moment, a surge of want and need and love flooding her with an overwhelming force. The time seems to stop, as she slowly sits back to her original position.

Daryl´s eyes are trained on her as they separate, roaming and unsure. Beth licks her lower lip nervously, blood pulsing in her temples, thrumming through her whole body, making her cheeks burn. His close proximity makes her feel feverish, crazy, alive. This is Daryl's effect, she knows. It's not going to stop. It's not going to change, the way she feels about him.

Beth gets up slowly, the movement must appear as if she was in a trance. Daryl´s questioning eyes are on her and she holds it bravely.

As an afterthought, Beth realises that Daryl´s still holding her wrist in a gentle clasp. She looks down and then back at him, then takes a step back, colliding with the medicine cabinet which breaks the spell.

Daryl stands up himself, tugging at the bottom of the clean shirt. “Thanks,” he repeats. “And good night.” He picks up his bow and hoists it up.

“Come to see Denise in the morning,” Beth blurts out.

Daryl nods. “I will,” and he disappears into the night.

Beth thinks of how she had believed she would never see him again, how final it felt, and how having him here, alive, is surreal and final too.

* * *

By the morning, he's gone. He's not in Rick's house, which Beth passes with poorly performed nonchalance on her way to infirmary where Denise confirms that Daryl didn't show up for the check up. Of course he didn't, Beth scoffs for herself. What is one scrape on the body full of scars.

She prefers to think that Daryl´s left with Aaron without a goodbye because he remembers how much Beth hates them. She looks up at the grey, gloomy looking sky, and thinks: Come back to me.


	2. Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After that they make a habit of staying close without having to agree on it or even talk about it. Beth’s understood a long time ago that Daryl´s words are not always necessary. It's extraordinary actually, she thinks. How perceptive he is, aware of his surroundings which projects not only to his hunting skills. He's good with people too; probably totally against his will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II is here. I've worked on this on and off for the past months. This whole story was originally a one shot - or a few very short ideas, that somehow morphed together. You can probably tell which parts are the original ones.   
> I hope you enjoy this, part III will be the last one!

A single day doesn't pass where Beth wouldn't think of Daryl. How unfair, she thinks, that as soon as they finally make up, he has to leave again. She hates it. Hates that there's no way how she could find out when he will be back, or that he's alive. She still goes out, tired of the pretense that she doesn't know how to hold a gun, how to bury a knife in a decaying brain. There are times when she believes that the woods whisper to her, too quietly to make out the words. She´s lulled by the voices, gets lost there for long hours. 

One afternoon she comes upon a huge sewage tunnel exit, the metal bars old and rusty, horrid stench hitting her nose as soon as she nears the area damp with the leaking water. There's something near the gate though, she can see a dark shape. It looks a bit like a stuffed duffel bag.

Deciding to go to check the spot, she carefully walks there while scanning the surrounding terrain, the dry leaves crunching under her boots. The trees grow sparsely here and she's able to see far enough to spot any walkers. Unsure of how steady or not the ground is, Beth dismisses the idea of making a straight way to the gate, instead she walks around to avoid sinking in the mud. 

Her right hand is clenching her gun, the other one is covering her nose to escape the revolting reek but there's no much point in it. As soon as she gets close to the sewage, she realises that it really is a big dark grey bag lying there, half-covered by leaves and branches collected where the water pours out to the open. Before she can figure out the best way to reach for it, something else catches her attention. On the far right, dozen feet away, what appeared like a branch half sunk in the wetland, now moves. Beth freezes mid step with her back bent down. She feels the little hairs on the nape of her neck erect, cold fear flooding her body. 

No surprise, it turns out to be a walker, decaying in the soil mixed with the sewage water, source of the smell. Beth gags and stays only long enough to notice the rotting meat hanging off the bony arms as the walker starts slowly raising up, disturbed by Beth´s presence. Abandoning the idea of getting to the bag which might contain useful things, or putting down the walker, she spins around to dash.

Turning around she spots three walkers gathered nearby, walking in her direction. She curses in her mind, scolding herself for not being more careful when getting down here. Afraid of attracting even more walkers, she decides to run before they can spot her. 

The woods are only a blur as she keeps running for long minutes, trying to figure out the way back to Alexandria. She has to diverge a couple of times as she spots a walker between the trees - or she thinks she does. Her lungs are burning. After what must be at least 30 minutes of quick sprint, when her throat is dry and scratchy, she catches a glimpse of a small, ruined shelter. PRAY - it's painted with dark blue spray on the concrete wall that's still intact. Fear grips her. For a microsecond she thinks of checking again, maybe her hazy brain is playing tricks on her but she can't allow herself to slow down. She's not scared of dying but that she will die here, in the middle of the forest, all by herself, and her body will get eaten by the dead or by wild animals, torn to pieces and scattered miles around. 

Her step falters and she trips over a log or a clod that sends her flying face forward to the ground. Before her vision goes black, the last though is: don't let me die alone. 

When Beth opens her eyes again, it's to noises of a fight not far away from her. The alarm inside her goes off, she tries to get up to her legs as quick as possible to be ready for potential danger. Her head spins dangerously as she fully stands up, black spots swimming in her vision. Her legs are wobbly.

Sounds of struggle reach her, and she turns to the direction where she guesses they are coming from. Two familiar figures are fighting a handful of walkers that have seemingly circled them - she instantly recognises Michonne and Tara in her checked shirt. 

Sweet relief floods her and she nearly sobs as she makes her way towards them, reaching for her knife on instinct. It takes her only a minute to reach the group.

The two women constantly notice her, as they fight a group of seven walkers who are grabbing and snapping at Michonne. None of them seems to have a weapon and Beth realises her gun´s somewhere on the ground where she had fallen over. She wouldn't dare to use a gun anyway, in fear of attracting more walkers. And she can't tell if any of the women are injured and ready to run to Alexandria.

She reaches for her knife and stabs the closest walker, trying to get to Michonne. It's a tough wrestle as she´s not on the top of her game and it looks like, for some reason, the walkers are unusually persistent and vicious. 

Together they manage to put a couple of the walkers down but Michonne is still fighting to free herself from the hold of the scabby, skeletal hands. Once those grip something, they don't like letting go.

The sharp whistle of the dart is what Beth registers before it buries itself between the walker´s eyes. Both Beth and Tara gasp in unison.

Daryl. 

In the next moment, he's by her side, getting the walkers that´ve gathered behind their backs. While he holds one still, Beth swiftly stabs it with her sharp knife. They kill three of them like this and then push to Tara and Michonne to help with the rest of the group.

It's all a mess of limbs, huffing and groaning surrounding them for a few short minutes. At one point Daryl grabs a stick from the ground to smash the walker´s head. One would say, it’s a close call. Beth’s heart is hammering terribly fast, head still spinning. It’s hard to focus on one thing but she’s doing pretty well nonetheless. 

Once the last walker falls, they are all breathing heavily, white clouds of condensation floating around their heads. 

“Thanks,” Michonne says and Daryl nods to that.

Touching the back of her hand to her throbbing chin, Beth watches as Daryl and Tara exchange a few information that Beth hardly registers. She winces when she spots the bloody smear on her hand.

She wants to ask Daryl if they´ve returned with Aaron from their trip while she’s been away, wants to welcome him back.

“Ya should all be more careful, damn,” he grumbles, eyeing all three of them.

“We will,” Tara reassures him.

Daryl shakes his head. “Don’t look like it now. You’re lucky there  _ will  _ be a next time.” He’s wearing an unhappy frown.

Beth takes a step towards him, one arm outstretched.

“Shit!” Daryl shouts angrily. Beth almost jumps up, taking a leap back. She can see how sweaty Daryl´s face is. 

He picks up his bow that’s resting against one of the tree trunks and throws the stick away forcefully.

Beth gapes, surprised by Daryl´s sudden anger. “What?!”

He gives her a single look over his shoulder and strides away. 

“How is that my fault?” she throws her arms in the air helplessly, pretty pissed off herself. Screw Daryl Dixon.

° ° °

Beth holds still as Denise patches her up. She sniffles and suppresses the urge to wipe her nose. Her mind is strangely blank. She thinks of today's incident. It was a narrow escape, not only for her but for Tara and Michonne too. She knows she saved them, alongside Daryl. Daryl who's mad at her instead of saying: good job. The list of names on the fence has grown steadily and she refuses to think of herself or anyone else being added there in big black letters. Maybe Daryl is. He's so bad with showing emotions but Beth knows he's full of them, has a hard time managing them. 

She stays quiet and alone with her thoughts for the rest of the afternoon, a Dostoyevskyi´s book in her lap, while she sits in the big armchair situated by a large window in their living room. Denise doesn't comment on the state she´s in when she comes in from her shift. People have gotten used to her sullenness, it seems. Which has only increased with Daryl away. If anyone notices this, they don't say. Her mind is oddly calm but she can't force herself to concentrate on the book, catching herself reading the same line for the 6th time. 

Alexandria is busy behind the glass. The excitement of Daryl and Aaron´s arrival buzzing through the normally calm streets. Beth can feel it all the way inside her. She´s buzzing too, but anxious also. Not sure how to react to Daryl when she sees him again. The thought of what had gone wrong when they met for the first time after funeral home paining her. 

Reluctantly, Beth drags herself out of the door, at last, walking past busy Alexandrians preparing a small, shielded bonfire. The trip must have been successful then. There's a hustle by the storage place and pantry, and people are chatting and laughing while bringing boxes of cans and bags of charcoal. Picture perfect, Beth muses. 

She goes to wait for Michonne at the porch, and nods as Carl and then Amy with Sam and Judith leave the house. Then more time passes and Mrs Atkinson stops for a chat about the renewed supply of chicken bouillon cubes. They will last forever, she shares with a giggle. Beth is not enough into the chicken bouillon, she guesses, because the second she hears the door open, she turns around, expecting Michonne.

Instead, Daryl Dixon walks out, wearing clean clothes, hair freshly washed. Beth´s breath catches. It's like stepping on a thumbtack but more pleasant. 

“Daryl!” she squeals, unable to disguise her joy. Not minding the flash of hesitation in his eyes, she jumps up reaching to hug him tightly, arms winding around his broad shoulders. Their reunion didn't go exactly smooth, Beth acknowledges, but she's absolutely not going through another round of Daryl avoiding her only to mask his awkwardness. She's not allowing that, despite knowing that it was him who behaved like a jackass a few hours ago.

After a moment Beth feels Daryl relax against her, carefully putting his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. Relief floods Beth, drawing a smile on her face that she presses into his shoulder, bouncing on her feet. She wobbles and the crown of her head connects with his jaw.

“Easy, girl,” Daryl chuckles, stepping back but leaving his arms on her. “You're gonna knock me teeth out.

She beams at him, waiting until he notices her chin.

“Ow,” he snorts as soon as his eyes land there and Beth laughs too, shortly, shrugging.

“Told ya they woulda find a better use than on me,” he refers to the white Steri-Strips. Daryl's eyes crinkle as he takes her in, it's sweet, Beth thinks immediately, she hasn't seen him smile in forever.

“Denise said no stitches necessary. Not that it would make any difference,” she wants to touch the old long, raised scar on her cheekbone but she doesn't, can see Daryl´s gaze flick there anyway. 

“Sorry for - “ Daryl squirms, looking anywhere but her, “- for before. That I was pissed at ya. I can't - I can't fight and look after ya at the same time.”

“Daryl,” she sighs, understanding where this is going. “It's okay. I can look after myself just fine,” she says softly, taking a step closer and gently laying her hand on his bare forearm. 

He shakes his head, solemn. 

“Ya shouldn't hafta. Not like this.”

“It's fine. I'm fine. As long as you don't shut me out again.”

“I won't,” he promises, only barely audible. But it's a promise nonetheless.

Later on, the community is gathered around the fire, talking and laughing under the starry sky. The night is going to be cold. They eat roasted boar until their stomachs are ready to burst, licking greasy fingers. Beth keeps close to Daryl, who gets pulled into conversations with Deanna and Rick or Carol, people come to thank him for all the supplies he's brought in with Aaron. She can practically see him blushing every time it happens, as he ducks his head and accepts the thanks. Almost every time Beth glances over to him, he catches her staring and she feels spooked and guilty for looking like a creep, but it also sends a bolt of exhilaration through her. In her head it means that he's aware of her, that he acknowledges her. It's all she wants. 

° ° °

After that they make a habit of staying close without having to agree on it or even talk about it. Beth’s understood a long time ago that Daryl´s words are not always necessary. It's extraordinary actually, she thinks. How perceptive he is, aware of his surroundings which projects not only to his hunting skills. He's good with people too; probably totally against his will. 

The short trips to the outside the safe zone become frequent as the winter approaches, and Beth wordlessly accompanies Daryl. The dynamics between them change. Sometimes, Beth believes he's almost playful with her. He smiles more often. It warms her on the inside, forces her to turn towards her old self - joyful and positive. 

They have a group of strong people back in Alexandria, and Aaron goes scavenging with them now, leaving Daryl to his own business. Beth wonders if they are doing her a favour. If Aaron thinks that Beth and Daryl have something going on - romantically. Her cheeks flush at the mere idea. She rarely allows herself these kinds of thoughts - all those what ifs. She knows that. Would people look at them weird, in normal life? If someone saw him making her blush, would they think it's sick, how much older he is?

The nature´s changed now. There are barely any leaves left on the trees, the wet ground covered with yellowish carpet made of them. It rains more often than not, and the gentle early autumn breeze has morphed into sharp, unforgiving wind carrying in the occasional light freeze. 

Daryl throws another log into the campfire, sparks flying out into the darkness like tiny red fireflies. This close to Alexandria they are more daring, bolder to have larger fires because they're familiar with the terrain. 

“We´ve never talked about-” Daryl starts, staring into the fire stoically and Beth tenses immediately, “how didya survived after the dickheads took ya. And in the hospital.”

He says it so quietly that Beth doubts for a moment if he really wants to be discussing this. She hasn't shared much of her story in detail with anyone. One of the reasons being that everyone has a lot to carry- stories with terrible ends, grief, loss - and she felt like there's no reason to add to that. The second reason´s that Beth hates going back there in her mind. Although she hadn´t been in a life threatening danger, the whole Grady experience had been horrid. Maggie isn´t the only person who´s tentatively brought up that talking about it would help Beth get over the trauma, or whatever you would call it. 

Beth huffs, annoyed. “Since when Daryl Dixon wants to talk about something?”

“Since he thought it would actually help someone,” he says, and Beth can see him watching her. “I'm not good with words, Beth,” he allows, “but I can see how it's been eating ya.”

His honest words touch feelings that have been locked up close to the surface for a long time. She crosses her arms in front of her tightly, watching the orange flames lick the wooden logs tirelessly. 

“I already told the story to all of you. To Deanna too,” Beth insists stubbornly. She doesn't know if it's smart to start on this topic with Daryl specifically. It's been only a short time since things´ve gotten better between them, Beth somehow learning to understand that he's here for her, that he had feared for her life as much as she had for his. And apparently, she's not much of a better communicator that he´s, after all. 

Finally, he seems to drop the topic. “Mhm, ´kay,” he hums, poking the embers with a stick. Beth´s not sure if she wished for him to press harder, to not let her get away with it. But after all, Daryl hates being forced into sharing emotions and talking feelings so maybe, maybe he understands her reluctance. 

They sleep side by side in warm sleeping bags, wordlessly choosing not to be too far apart. For safety reasons, of course. And Beth dreams of suffocating grey smoke absorbing her dad, Maggie, Glenn, Judith, Daryl. Everything smells of burnt flesh and plastic, and she can't see anything through the thick curtain of it. The sense of finality fills her, chest getting tighter and tighter with anxiety. She wants to reach for them, to find them - but she's stuck to the spot, paralysed -

Beth wakes with a startle, disoriented. When she takes in her surroundings, she's surprised to see Daryl sitting up, watching the dying fire, turned away from her. He seems to be lost in thoughts, legs still covered by the sleeping bag. It's a luxury, to be shielded from the cold like this, makes a lot of difference. 

He must have heard the rustle because he peers over his shoulder. 

“Go back to sleep, I'm on the watch,” Daryl says and it sounds muffled with his back turned to her. He must think that the reason Beth´s up is because she's scared. But she's not afraid of dark forests anymore; stopped a long time ago. 

Beth blinks at his hunched form. Has he really been up the whole time? Going back to sleep doesn't appeal to her at all. The grim, disconcerting aura of the dream looming above her. She shivers bodily, willing for the feelings to go away but they are gripping her tirelessly. She thinks she can feel the toxic fumes from the dream fire in the back of her throat, and if she falls asleep again, she might plunge right into another nightmare. Eyes closing on their own volition, exhausted form the day long tracking, she fights to stay up.

“Whass dat? You cold?” Daryl turns back to her questioningly. 

Beth shakes her head. She's clutching the stale sleeping bag to her but that's not it. The inner cold is ever-present. She's learnt how to ignore it. When Daryl's around, it's even easier to forget the invisible fist gripping her insides. 

Daryl´s forehead creases deeper and he reaches for her, laying his palm on Beth's shoulder. “Beth,” he insists, his pale eyes searching. The dying bonfire illuminates him from behind, the orange light appearing as a halo around his head. 

Beth opens her mouth but only a half choked sob comes out, and she quickly shuts it again, biting her lip til it bleeds. She's absolutely mortified when she realises that she's about to start crying. 

Daryl´s allarmed now. 

“You asked how I survived,” she starts, sitting up stiffly to mirror Dary´s position. “The only thing that kept me goin´ was hope and my own memories. I was hoping that Maggie and Glen would maybe find a safe place where they could start a family, that Judith would have the opportunity to grow up in peace.” She´s choosing her words carefully, speaking slowly while staring ahead of her. “I thought about everyone a lot. Imagined what your lives would be, how you would make it. I wanted all of you to have a chance to settle down and be happy, not to fear for your lives every single damn day. I thought a lot about my childhood and growing up. But not the exact things, you know. Just- just how it felt when my mama would read bedtime stories every evening, and when I saw Maggie the first time she came from college for Thanksgiving. I remembered chasing baby chickens, trying to catch them in my hand, how fluffy their yellow feathers felt. The excitement of going on the stage at the school music competition.” Beth´s eyes sting, she´s been lost in her memory long enough to forget to blink. When she does, tears spill from her eyes freely but she doesn't mind them. As if they represent the pure and loved moments leaving her body for good. 

Daryl watches her warily with intensity that Beth´s learnt to associate only with him. She knows that even if he looks like he doesn't give a damn, he's listening too well, vigilant. Like when he's hunting. 

“I can't think of the exact moments - they belong to another world now,” she says, realising that it's true. “But the feelings we experience, and the memory of them, that's what no one can ever take away from us.That's what makes us human. And we are humans. We are not dead yet. It's just - sometimes I feel so much that it's like my heart is going to burst and never heal again. Maybe it's already happened.”

Beth blinks away more tears, rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“You must have a reason to live,” Daryl says quietly from his place, almost startling her. It's true, what he says.

Sighing, Daryl shifts closer to her. “What am I gonna do with ya, girl?” he says, voice tired and laced with tenderness. He leans in, tapping her nose lightly with his index finger. 

Beth sniffs. She doesn't want to worry him. But seeing him actually care makes her insides melt. 

Her body naturally sways to his as she rests her forehead against his shoulder. There's still a good chunk of space between them but she needs the tiny point of contact.

“I didn't understand. It was almost like-” oh, this is gonna sound so stupid, she thinks.

“Like what?”

“Like you were not happy that I was back,” she finishes, finally saying out loud what's been on her mind for weeks. 

An owl hoots nearby and the next moment Daryl´s moving, hand shooting up to take Beth´s chin. He tilts her face so she has no other choice than to look right into his eyes.

“I want ya to know one thing,” he hisses, expression dark. “That ain't no true. Never think that. Ya understand?”

Beth doesn't dare to blink, she only nods once. Her heart is racing, her mind too. She can't concentrate on anything apart from his fingers touching her face. It feels particularly exorcism-like, talking about what she's been suppressing so hard inside for so long.

Daryl nods in return, swallows. The fierce look on his face slowly disappearing. He looks away and stretches one arm awkwardly to half-hug her, pulling her slightly towards his chest. 

“You ain't lost. You ain't. No more. Like ya said,” he says resolutely, tightening the hold on her. She knows that he's referring to their conversation in the infirmary. Beth believes him. 

It's silent for a minute between them, she feels his chest rising and falling. Then Daryl speaks up.

“I'm much better off now than I used to be. Couldya believe that?” he scoffs, amused. “Never had a real family. Didn't know what it meant until I met Rick. How everyone complains about this damn situation - I've gotten fuckin´ lucky.”

Beth chuckles despite the situation. It comes out as a wet, weak sound.

“Honest!” Daryl defends himself. “I was - nobody. As dead as them. No brain in my head. Let my brother do all the thinkin´.” He scoffs, “It got us into serious shit, mostly. I'm not from a nice family like ya. But fuck - I´ll never be happier that Merle and me found the camp in Atlanta.” As Daryl keeps talking, his stubbly chin rubs against the top of Beth´s head. It's not uncomfortable at all, Beth finds. “I didn't know what to do. I'd never had - friends, I guess. People who would care about me, who I could care ‘bout. My parents were a pair of nasty folks.”

“You were great with Judith. From the start,” Beth notes. “The day she was born, Daryl. I remember. You were a natural.”

It's a praise, and she's unsure of how Daryl is going to react. But he only shrugs, she can feel it against her arm and shoulder. 

“Just an instinct,” he mutters.

She dozes off like that - leaning against Daryl, enjoying his warmth.

° ° °

Beth sleeps for about four hours. Daryl less, if he slept at all. It's not dawn what wakes her, but Daryl´s soft rustling around the fire pit, gathering fallen trees and twigs to start the fire again. They have canned beans to heat up, and tea bags. What a luxury. 

A small stream runs through the forest, and despite the absolutely icy freezing water, that's where they wash their faces and hands. The sound of the water is refreshing and somewhat uplifting, Beth muses.

“Haven't heard ya singin´ since the prison,” Daryl says next to her and Beth realises she´s been humming under her breath, totally unconscious of her actions.

She shrugs. “I don't.” The last time he heard her was in the funeral home, she thinks. She knows Daryl knows that too but doesn't say it out loud. What happened there, with them, it’s a mystery to Beth. But the way Daryl looked at her that night before she was taken - it meant something.

Daryl shrugs in return, spitting out water and tucking his green toothbrush into the pocket of his cargo trousers.

“I used to sing all the time after I escaped Grady. When I wasn't scared that someone - something - would hear me. It reminds me of the endless forever. When I was sure I would die in the woods.”

It doesn't surprise her when Daryl stays silent. He measures her with his eyes, something she's gotten used to, and turns to go back to their camp fire. 

“I'm not who I was,” she shouts after him, suddenly frustrated that he can't see all the damage in her. 

Daryl turns back, peering at her over his shoulder. “Whatcha tryin’ to do, Greene? You think that after you practically died and then came back I'm gonna complain ´bout you not wanna sign?” and he scoffs loudly, eyes rolling. 

“I think I'm dangerous now,” she says quietly, mortified at her own words. She can feel her chin trembling. 

“You bet,” Daryl nods. “People who wanna live today are dangerous.”

° ° ° 

In the afternoon they bring their catch to Alexandria - wild rabbits and turkeys - tired but happy with the outcome of their short hunting trip. After they get cleaned up, Beth finally gives a consent to Daryl that he may remove the Steri-Strips from her chin. He's been nagging her about them the whole way back to Alexandria. 

She meets him in the empty infirmary, tries to hide how much she's interested in the way his flannel shirt is stretching along the width of his shoulders when he walks her to the cabinets.

“We shulda take that shit off before it causes more damage than good,” Daryl points out.

“Could you believe that they were kissing? Oh it was so embarrassing! You know, I don't have anything against it, not at all - just, if I had known I wouldn't have starred like a lunatic! The whole time, Daryl, I thought that they had been hiding some different kind of secret. Instead I find them kissing in the kitchen where they are supposed to be baking a-”

Suddenly, Daryl lifts her up and sets her on the counter. “Sometimes you talk too much, Greene, ya know that?”

“Oh, look who's talking? Someone who never talks,” she mouths back, trying to cover the shock of him holding her so matter-of-factly just a moment ago.

“Quit it,” Daryl murmurs but she sees the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It makes her smile too, pleased that he's carelessly joking around with her.

Beth pouts at him exaggeratedly but falls silent, tilting her face so Daryl can work. She swings her legs a few times, waiting for Daryl to find the tweezers or whatever is he looking for. 

Beth hisses as the stripe comes off, tugging at her skin, giving a pinch. “Sorry, darlin´,” Daryl winces in sympathy and Beth freezes, flushing instantly at the pet name. He's so careful and so gentle with her that she could scream. 

He uses all sorts of nonsense on her healed chin, like they had never gone months without simple bandages and disinfectants. It almost seems to her like he's prolonging the time he can spend with her in the privacy of the empty infirmary. 

Beth parts her legs so Daryl can step between them to study her chin. She´s sure it really doesn't need this much scrutiny but wouldn't trade having Daryl this close for anything. The insides of her thighs brush against Daryl's hips, and they both look up as if on cue. Beth counts how many new lines have appeared around Daryl´s eyes since the last time they were together here, in the very same building. His beard is longer and more grey, even though he was gone barely a month. T he world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that’s always been there, and the next minute it’s just a memory. Beth doesn't want Daryl to become just a memory.

She's literally one second from reaching out and cupping his cheek in her palm, eyes transfixed on his, when the door opens. 

“Oh.” It's Rick who stammers in, transfixed at the doorstep. Daryl almost jumps away from Beth.

“Here you are,” Rick says sensibly, very obviously trying to come up with something smart to say, instead of staring. 

As expected, Daryl grunts wordlessly and sets to leave, half dragging Rick with him. Beth hops down from the counter, a smile playing on her lips. She saw the bright red tips of Daryl´s ears poking from his messy hair.

° ° ° 

In the following weeks, Beth finds herself lost in thoughts about Daryl and the old world. Now she knows what he´d been up to Before, mostly. Or some of it. She wonders if he would ride horses instead of a bike. Maybe he would work on their farm, like Otis had. What would her mom say if she saw them hanging around together? Maybe Daryl would be that kind of guy your parents warned you before. Maybe they would be friends. The kids in her school making it into a big deal. Would Beth want it to be a big deal? This silent thing between them. Does she want it?

Beth realises she sleeps better with Daryl around. It transforms into Daryl taking a somewhat permanent spot in her bed. Maybe - just maybe - he sleeps better with Beth in the same room too. 

Then they lose Tyreese and Sasha too. It's a shock to everyone, even though it's not uncommon that a neighbour, a friend, a partner never comes back alive from outside of the fences. It affects Beth hugely, and she draws herself in again, only this time it’s apparent why.

° ° °

Beth wakes up in the middle of the night stifling hot and uncomfortable. The first thought is that she´s got a fever and her hand shoots up almost on its own accord to touch her forehead. But it's not too warm, same for her cheeks. The collar of her t-shirt is wet with sweat though, armpits as well. She groans a bit, as she feels that there's dampness between her legs too. She realises it must be around middle of her cycle, the hormones being crazy during her ovulation. It hasn't happened in a long long time, since they had left the farm. Which explains why she was feeling on edge and weirdly horny today. She sighs. So her body didn't forget everything from the old world. It's still working, attuned to the nature, more so now when she´s been feeling safe and settled.

She turns her head left on her pillow, looking over at Daryl's sleeping form. It probably doesn't help that he's here with her. In her bed. She flushes. No boy has ever stayed in her bed overnight. Daddy would have killed her, probably. He thought that she would wait until after the wedding. Beth thought so too. It seemed that the universe had different plans though, and when things started going downhill, Jimmy sort of talked her into having sex - it looked like the end of the world and who would want to pass on an opportunity to fuck. Even Beth admitted that it made sense, weirdly.

She rolls her eyes at herself internally. Jimmy drove them to the lake farther behind their town in his old truck. They had sex on a woolen blanket they had laid on the grass damp with evening dew, being constantly bitten by mosquitoes didn't help with their nervousness. It was gawky and kinda sweet but didn't do much for Beth. She didn't love Jimmy and there were not a lot of feelings involved from her side anyway. She didn't want to die a virgin though.

It seems stupid now. Now when she has this silly crush on Daryl. She knows she can ignore it during the day when they interact, can mute the feelings and act reasonable, like a grown-up. But in the night, like this— she´s not sure why she wants to torture herself. Probably, being close to him - any way possible - is better than being without him completely. 

The bed is big enough to leave space between the two of them, and Beth wiggles, trying to get comfortable again to sleep but as she moves she realises her bladder is full. Annoyed, she hoists herself up with a huff and pads to the bathroom.

She can't shake off the weird irritation, a rush that's circulating through her blood system without any apparent cause. It's like the rush you get after being chased by walkers, with all the adrenaline and fear of your own or someone else's life. She doesn't know how to settle again. Because there's downtime now. They don't have to keep running to find another barely safe hideaway, damp and cold and miserable. Not being in a constant survival mode is odd after such a long time outside. 

When she enters the bedroom again, Daryl is sitting up on the mattress. His hair is a mess, hanging over his eyes like a curtain.

“What?” she asks, stopping in her tracks.

Daryl barely moves, tilting his head to meet her eyes but remains silent. Beth can't read him like this and his stare makes something inside her stir, not unpleasantly. 

“What, Daryl?” she asks prickly, impatient. His mysterious behaviour drives her crazy, more than it used to.

Quietly, she treads back to her side of the bed, trying to ignore how Daryl keeps watching her. It's not easy but she remembers all the times her eyes lingered on him for way to long - his strong, bare arms in the sleeveless shirt, holding his bow, smoking on the porch, resting next to her - how he never comments on that anymore, doesn't call her out. Today she'd been exceptionally obvious, careless. Watching him play with Judith does crazy things to her. It makes her want to touch him in not-so-friendly ways.

The sheets are still warm when Beth slips inside the nest of them. The air feels chilly now, making the sheen of sweat on her skin go all cold suddenly. Shuddering, she pulls the duvet all the way up to her chin while still sitting up. The air between them is charged - which is not that unusual - and Beth´s heart is speeding up gradually. Somehow it must be connected to the state she's been in, she muses. It's unusual though, and makes her restless, fingers and toes tingling with odd energy.

“Didn't know where ya disappeared,” he says finally, voice hoarse from the sleep. Peripherally, Beth can see him watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Just to pee.”

There's a big, purple bruise forming on Beth´s upper arm, from where she stumbled into the birch tree today, uncoordinated after two walkers hurdled onto her. She registered the hard connection with the tree trunk but didn't think about it after. She can literally feel Daryl's eyes on that spot. 

“You don't have to worry about me anymore. I told you that,” she tells him without looking at him, staring stubbornly at her bent knees.

“I do though,” he rasps in a hushed voice. The confession paralyses Beth, heart picking up speed. She tries to shake off the feeling, tries to mask how much it's affecting her.

“Well that's stupid,” she retorts. She knows what he means though. She thinks she does, anyway. Because she worries too, automatically, about people that are dearest to her. Beth knows what ´worry´ stands for, it means - it is -- love.

She swallows with a loud click, hating how fast her brain is going and glad that Daryl can't read her mind. When Daryl gets back to his old wordless, poorly communicating ways - it makes Beth so mad, because it feels like he's shutting her down again. These past weeks, she's come to believe that their bond has been stronger than ever, Daryl finally speaking in long sentences, sharing silly things as well as painful memories from his childhood. 

Daryl´s shoulder nudges hers, a friendly gesture which is as far from what she feels deep inside her heart as possible. 

“C´m ´ere,” Daryl tilts his chin, motioning to her. He outstretches his arm and winds it around her shoulders, slowly dragging her down to the mattress with him. Daryl rarely initiates any sort of physical contact between them. It caches Beth by surprise and even though it's strictly platonic, the sudden closeness throws her off guard. She finds herself cradled against Daryl´s chest, both lying on their sides. One of Daryl´s arms remains around Beth´s shoulders, the other one sneaked over her middle, palm resting on her waist. They´ve cuddled numerous times but Daryl´s never been this forward, never held her purposely this tight. It ignites the fire in her belly again. 

“No one's ever held me like this,” she murmurs against his sternum, mouth running faster than the brain. “I feel- it feels so nice.” The regret comes in the next instance when she hears Daryl's breath catch in his throat. Beth waits timidly for his reaction but it doesn't come. They lay together, time stretching into long minutes, until Beth´s almost sure Dary´s expecting her to fall asleep. That's not gonna happen now though, and judging from his shallow breathing and the stiffness of his muscles, he's not anywhere near falling asleep either.

So they lay there entwined like two fools, in the Alexandrian dark - so different from the one outside - the room illuminated by the low gleam of the few house lights on the street. Their hearts are beating like wings of wild birds, echoing each other. There's no chance Daryl can't feel hers against his own chest.

One of Beth´s legs starts becoming numb due to the slightly awkward position they hold, afraid to move, and she absolutely  _ has  _ to move, shifting her pelvis and hitching her thigh a bit higher. She´s hyper aware of every inch of her skin that's pressed against Daryl´s warm body, his familiar scent filling her nose with each hasty inhale. 

The next time Beth moves, trying to find a more comfortable position but not wanting to jostle Daryl too much, their crotches press together and Daryl breathes out noisily - a startled half groan.

They both freeze and Beth bits her lower lip hard. 

“Sorry!” Daryl rushes to apologize and it's not very clear for what, to which Beth replies in a flash, “It's ok!”

It's absolutely mortifying, mostly probably because Beth has never been in this situation with Daryl, and honestly - it's an absolute miracle that he's not running for the hills. Instead they manage to subtly reposition themselves into a more comfortable and hopefully safe tangle of legs and arms, the tension now cracking through the air like electricity before a storm. 

Tired of waiting, Beth brings the hand of her arm that's been tossed over Daryl's rib cage higher, laying her palm on his bicep and cautiously moving it upwards under the hem of the t-shirt sleeve. She strokes the soft skin there with her fingertips, observing, waiting for Daryl´s reaction- but he holds still. Beth thinks she´s content to stay like this until morning, even when she wouldn't get any sleep, fervent and wanting, when Daryl pushes his thigh up, which means directly against her crotch, and this time it's Beth´s turn to let out a quiet moan. 

Before Daryl can freak out, she squeezes his bicep in assurance and rolls her hips again, this time with intent, and the top of Daryl´s thigh presses right against her pussy. A wave of pleasure washes over her, leaving goose bumps in its wake, and Beth gasps at the intensity of it - Daryl's strong body against hers, and she´s gonna bring herself off with the help of it if she continues now. 

Face still tucked under Daryl´s chin, she´s aware of her hot breath dampening the fabric of his t-shirt. Daryl keeps holding her quietly, probably trying to wrap his mind around what's going on. Beth turns her head to the side to nose against Daryl´s bicep where she's been gripping him, her lips rubbing there, not daring to lay kisses outright, even if she badly wants to. She moves to rock against Daryl's thigh, hitching her hips higher to the crease of his groin, and it's clear that he's hard in his pyjama pants.

The position feels very impersonal suddenly, because they can't see each other's faces like this, and Beth needs to check if there's pleasure written over Daryl's features, or if it's confusion or perhaps disgust? She wants him to feel as good as she's feeling right now, to maybe read what he's been unwilling to describe with words. 

Decided, Beth hoists herself up, wiggling on the same level as his face is, biting her lip in the effort, as he's still holding her tight around her waist. She keeps their legs tangled together, keeps moving, less of dragging and more of short, shallow rocks now, arms sneaking around Dary´s neck. 

It's heady and she knows she's making noises, but at the same time she´s enthralled by the fact that Daryl´s participating, that he's wanting this too, and she can't hold back. 

His face is tilted and he's looking down, somewhere between them, at the tangle of their legs and duvets. It's hard to see his expression and Beth cradles his head in her palms, one cupping his nape and the other one the side of his face, his stubble prickly against her sensitive skin. She tries to maneuver him, to make him look at her but instead Daryl moves up, all of a sudden.

“Wait,” Beth goes after him immediately, afraid that he's going to run away after all. She's embarrassed for showing her emotions so openly to him, but he just looks at her silently, moving around on the bed to kneel and then settle on his haunches before her. 

Stunned, Beth repositions her legs, spreading them to accommodate Daryl in front of her, as if from a habit that she's never learnt. Eyes trained on his, she lays back down.

The light from outside illuminates Daryl more now, casting a soft glow on his features. There's intent there but unease too. Beth´s never seen his face look like this. The need to reach for him is almost unbearable but she doesn't dare to disturb the fragile moment.

Worrying his lip, Daryl reaches to grip Beth´s waist, palms spanning the width of it, thumbs pressing against her lower belly. Beth gasps silently, arching her back in answer and Daryl slips his fingers under the hem of Beth´s top, the calloused pads digging into her feverish skin. He's looking at where his fingers are and pulls the waistband of Beth´s sweatpants down and lower, over her thighs and knees and shins. He carefully tugs it off her ankles, stopping a tad longer at the left one which got injured all those months ago. 

Beth doesn't quite realise she's naked from the waist down before he lowers down again, making room between Beth's pale legs, and looks at her. Beth´s not sure what he sees on her face. She's so aroused that she can't think straight. She's still cold, more so now without her pants, but also burning at the same time. If there was enough light, she's sure Daryl´s cheeks would prove as red as her own.

“Please.”

Beth holds her breath. Whatever it is that Daryl´s trying to find in her expression, she's pretty sure it's showing there. And if not then the plea fixes it, because the next moment Daryl pushes one of her thighs further to the side, and his mouth is on her pussy. 

His mouth is soft on her flesh, his tongue silky smooth and unexpectedly strong. There's absolutely no doubt that he's doing exactly what he wants to be doing. He's licking at her enthusiastically, lips sucking around her clit, the direct contact making her arch her lower back, mouth opening in a silent moan. It feels totally different from what she imagined. With Jimmy, they never had oral sex. The idea of having a boy - a man - so close to her vagina didn't appeal to her at all back then. Daryl flicks his tongue against her clit and repeats the movement. Beth grips the sheet in her fists, slowly tensing up. It's awfully intimate, is what it is, and having Daryl - normally withdrawn and distant- being the one eating her out is only adding up to Beth´s excitement. 

She's not sure how strongly she can react, slightly concerned that she would only make Daryl stop. So she bites her tongue to keep her mouth shut, clenches her fists to stay as still as possible. Anything to get Daryl going.

Grunting, Daryl shifts his weight between her legs, getting into a more comfortable position there. Beth´s so tense and anxious - from the unexpected turn of the events, as well as the unfamiliar, new sensations - that she can hardly breathe when Daryl teasingly licks along the crease of her thigh, her crotch.

It doesn't take more than a minute before Daryl slowly comes to a stop. 

“No,” Beth breathes out, craning her neck to peek down at Daryl, surprised by her open disapproval. 

“You're shakin´” Daryl croaks out. He avoids eye contact, instead he runs his hands along the outer sides of Beth´s thighs, rubs her hip bones with his thumbs in a somewhat calming gesture. 

Beth´s burning. “´m not cold,” she assures him but when she forces herself to concentrate, she realises how cold her feet are - all blood accumulated in her face and between her legs - and how forcefully she's holding her body back, muscles tense until there are tremors running through her whole being. 

He rubs his lips against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Then relax,” he murmurs and Beth tries.

Daryl´s tongue is hot and quick now. He moves it around the outer lips, slowly making his way towards the centre. Then he opens his mouth, starting long strokes along her clit. Everything he does feels new. He sounds different. He uses different angles, his touch feeling unpredictable. 

When Beth masturbates she's only able to orgasm from stimulating her clit. Even when Daryl concentrates on that exact spot, his tongue and lips don't offer enough pressure and she´s too embarrassed to ask for something more. 

She lets out a frustrated sound that has Daryl moving again. He stops and sits up. In the dark, Beth imagines she can see his mouth glistening with her juices. The mere thought has her blushing furiously but then Daryl´s hand touches the apex of her thighs, soft as a question.

“´s this alright?”

“Yes,” she nods, going crazy with anticipation. She's so wet, she knows and now Daryl knows too. His fingers stroke her folds carefully, then around her entrance in cautious movements that make Beth´s insides melting. The moment Daryl pushes one finger in they both groan in unison. How did Beth never realise that having someone's fingers in her could be so darn sexy. The feeling itself is a bit strange but the fact that it's Daryl makes up for everything. He's towering over her, sitting on his haunches between her spread legs. It's a little intimidating and very comforting at the same time.

He begins to thrust his finger and then two, gradually speeding up and using more force, as if he's reaching for something. Beth has a pretty good idea what but since she´s never had anyone to finger her or reach her g-spot during sex, she´s unsure of what is she supposed to feel. Nonetheless, Daryl is filling in a void she wasn't aware of. It's incredible having him  _ inside _ . On occasion his knuckles bump against her clit, making her moan quietly, until she gets bold and reaches to touch herself.

Daryl groans low above her. “Yeah,” and she´s suddenly aware of how heavy his breathing has become, how this is affecting him too. 

Flicking her wrist, Beth´s rubbing herself while Daryl keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of her. The double sensation has Beth breathing hard and loud herself, the familiar feeling of getting off steering her towards the edge. It's incredible - the stimulation on her clit as well as Daryl fucking her with his thick fingers. Something changes and she's not ashamed anymore, she doesn't want to stop. Her hips are hitching up to meet Daryl´s thrusts, she wants his fingers deeper, whining with the need.

“Shh,” she hears Daryl croon. “´S okay, ya can let go,” his other hand runs along her side under her t-shirt, warm and familiar. “Jus´ let go.”

Forcing herself to focus on her own pleasure, she squeezes her closed eyes and imagines what it would feel like if the fingers inside her would be Daryl´s cock. The reaction is immediate - she comes, startlingly quick and sudden, whole body tensing and spine bowing.

Catching her breath she slumps further down the bed, planting her feet on the mattress, her thighs bracketing Daryl´s torso now. She opens her eyes to find him already watching her. Her immediate reaction is to blush. Then she squeezes her thighs, trapping him between them. Her pussy throbs, she wants him. 

Not staying still for long, Daryl turns around and hands Beth her pyjama pants and moves onto his side of the bed. Beth pulls them on jerkily, thinking if she should offer to return the favor. She - she wants to, but when she lies down, Daryl´s already on his side, facing away from her, head turned towards the window. 

Sleep overtakes her before she can start freaking out.

° ° ° 

The following morning Daryl’s side of the bed is empty when Beth wakes up. She’s not sure how it makes her feel. Mostly grateful for avoiding an uncomfortable confrontation. 

The day is busy as she first attends a “cooking class” for the older kids at Carol’s, where Sam - the most enthusiastic pupil - manages to set the oven on fire. Then with Jess they rummage through various cupboards and closets to build a winter wardrobe in the storage room. No one knows what is coming for them in December and January, as there are no meteorologists and weather forecasts anymore. They go through what feels like tons of clothes, packing away the unnecessary items for spring and summer.

By the time the dark draws upon them, the stiffness of her muscles and joints show how long she’s been crouching on the floor next to Jess. They part and Beth walks to her house, looking forward to seeing the girls and maybe having a nice chat with them for once. She hasn’t talked to them a whole lot but she does like them.

When she spots Daryl on her porch, leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette, being surprised is an understatement. Immediately, she thinks of a way to avoid him - a childish reaction to having to face him after what had happened last night.

She takes a steadying deep breath, hopping the three steps up. Maybe he's not going to notice her, maybe he's here for something else.

“Hey,” Beth greets him bravely, a polite smile on her face. In her mind she's counting her chances he lets her get away.

He doesn't.

“Hey,” he straightens up his posture, looking alert. When she makes a move to carry on into the house, he catches her forearm lightly. “How was your day?” he asks - and now, it is awkward.

Beth stares at him. Daryl doesn't do small talks. “It was fine, thank you.”

Hi eyes flick to her mouth. Does he think of kissing her? They didn't get to that last night. 

Daryl must realise that Beth´s caught him, because he quickly looks away. Beth sways on her feet back and forth, unsure of what to do now. After all, only twelve or so hours ago, his tongue was between her legs. The mere thought has her blushing, she´s been fighting to get comfortable with the idea of having sex with Daryl the whole day by decisively not thinking about it. It for sure catches up with her now. 

She wonders if now, when they did it, it will be hard not to want it again. If Daryl enjoyed touching her and being close to her, being IN her, as much as she did. After all, he didn't come, maybe he's mad. Maybe she should have been more vocal about returning the favour. Was it only a favour that he did for her? She hopes that it meant more to him.

The silence stretches while Beth´s thoughts swirl through her mind. She clears her throat nervously and decides and the best would be if she just goes in and sleeps it off. 

“Well - good night,” she mutters, wishing to have the ability to disappear.

“Wait,” Daryl makes a step towards her. Looking up at him, her eyebrows raise in question. “I just wanted to make you feel good,” Daryl blurts the words out.

Beth forgets to breathe. “Oh.” She convinced herself she would never speak up of what happened last night, worried that any sort of confrontation would drive Daryl away. Him coming up to her never crossed her mind.

“Did I - was it good for you?” The question shocks Beth to her core. She bites her lip as if it could prevent the furious blush spreading down her face and neck, and decides to be brave.

“Yeah,” she nods, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Wasn't I too - rough?” Daryl´s clearly struggling to find the right words and Beth finds that more appealing than she could, probably. She can't believe he's talking about this! Must have meant something to him too, then. “Would hate myself if I hurt ya.”

“No,” she shakes her head and bites her lip. 

Daryl nods in return and grunts little “good”. “´Cause I wanna look after you. Jus´ wanna take care of ya.” And with their eyes locked, Beth knows that Daryl´s only waiting for her assent. Then she would be free to go.

“I know,” Beth says firmly, hoping that Daryl would be able to hear the softness lacing her words, mirroring what's there for him in her heart.

With one last nod, he disappears into the dark, steps quiet, hunter like. 

° ° °

She thought about love in the hospital and after she left too. She watches Daryl and wonders if those feelings she mused over in Grady meant love, if she was in love with him. If she is in love with him. She thinks about what is the essence of love - how do you know you love someone romantically when you are not able to be with them. If it's the hole they leave in your chest. If it's the ever-present absence, the pain that becomes part of you. If it's dreaming about him leaving over and over, like poking into an almost healed scab; 

Beth knew it would happen again - that Daryl would have to leave for a longer period, sooner than later. Before the winter comes to Alexandria. The timing is not great again. There's only little she can do, and Daryl seems to take the scouting trips as his biggest responsibility and pride. This time she gets to see him off. 

As she walks through the quiet street towards Aaron´s garage, she gets reminded of the cold mornings on the farm, when it would be her turn to tend to the horses and pigs. She would wear her thick, fleece jumper and green rubber boots. It's like an image from another life.

Daryl notices her and looks up from attaching his bags to the bike. 

Before Daryl can react, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth accidentally. It's just a chaste press of the lips, no touching elsewhere. That's how they part on the crisp autumn day, the sun barely above the trees, swarmed in a thick haze. They part without goodbyes and promises of what will be when they stand face in face again.

That night she scribbles into her green, battered journal with an unsteady hand: _I'm in love. I feel like I'm going to die._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) This story is going to have two more parts maximum, and a big chunk of it is already finished, so there shouldn´t be any long waiting.


End file.
